


Little Games

by romymars (purple_pyro)



Series: Tradeoffs [1]
Category: Baccano!
Genre: Chess, Gen, adventures post 1932
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_pyro/pseuds/romymars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Alveare is a little more crowded than usual, everyone is impressed by a ten year old, and no one likes a sore loser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Games

"Ha, checkmate!" The yell echoed off the walls of the Alveare from where two men sat across a chessboard. One huffed as the winner swiped the defeated king off the board, toying with the wooden piece with a smirk. The loser scooted out of the chair with a grumble, waving off the shorter man's triumphant laughs. 

"What's he so proud for? It's just chess," Randy said with a scoff from the bar. Pecho nodded in agreement. 

"Well, he's a new recruit, 'course he's a little smug. Could stand ta be quieter though," Firo responded casually. The winner, a short man from upstate named Ronald, had given the whole speakeasy an unwanted play-by-play narration of the game. While the man was admittedly skilled, Firo was pretty annoyed that he couldn't enjoy a simple sunday afternoon in peace. 

"He's the type dat won't listen 'till you beat him good 'n personally," the bartender commented softly. 

"Damn. I'm no good at chess. Think he'd listen since I'm a higher up?" Pecho asked. 

"I don't think so."

"What if I played him?" Czes suggested idly from beside Firo. He didn't look up from his book to greet the four surprised stares. 

"Heh, didn't think you were listening," Firo said and the boy frowned. "He probably won't bother since you're only a kid-"

"I'm freakin' unbeatable! You chumps are too easy!" More howls from the corner booth, and Firo's face reverted into a moody glare. 

"Sure ya can do it?" Pecho asked. 

"Nevermind, anybody, please. Jus' make 'im shut up." Randy said, downing his glass of whiskey. 

Czes shrugged, marking his place with a strip of ribbon before closing the book and heading over to the table. There was a fair amount of bickering over whether or not it was "worth his important time to play against some toddler" before the man relinquished and Czes sat down in front of the chessboard. 

The game started like the ones before it had, with Ronald screaming out the moves like a baseball announcer. Czes stayed focused, making no sounds as he slid his pieces across the checkered squares with deliberation. The bartender took it as a sign he was losing, shaking his head as he wiped out a shot glass. But as the game continued on and Ronald's shouts got quieter and rarer, the Alveare occupants forgot about the match until he suddenly yelled. 

"How! What they hell did you-... You cheat or somethin'?" The older man sputtered as Czes flicked over his king. "You dirty brat, prob'ly think you're smarter than me now, huh? I bet-"

"Do you want a rematch?" Czes said sweetly. The man paused, sneering. 

"Hah, all right kid, since you're craving it so bad." The two of them reset the board, but Ronald stopped the immortal before he could place the last piece. "Let's switch. I'm white, you're black."

Czes nearly snorted. As if changing colors would somehow help the man win. It didn't; Ronald's king was tipped over again in even fewer moves. As the camorrista began ranting again, Firo stood up and approached the pair to inspect the game. Sure enough, the nearly full set of black pieces overcrowded the white, with the king hanging off the back end of the board on its side. 

"Czes playin' chess," the bartender snickered. "I might give it a go when my shift's off." He fulfilled his word half an hour later, slightly baffled when the outcome was identical to the previous games. Another challenger offered to play, becoming another disgruntled loser as Czes passively sorted out the toppled pieces afterwards. 

As the clock struck five and patrons filed in for happy hour, rumor of a genius kid playing chess filtered through the underground speakeasy. A small line formed, with a handful of patrons in various states of drunkenness waiting their turn to lose. Every time, Czes would reset the board as his next opponent took their seat, switching colors if demanded, allowing his challenger the first move as a placebo advantage. Some did better than others, but the match always ended in Czes's favor. The closest to winning was Ennis, who after managing to take his rooks, queen, a knight, and nearly all his pawns, graciously accepted defeat with a smile Czes mirrored back. Ronnie had the upper hand for a while, tapping his temple when it was his turn to move, until Maiza nearly kicked him out of his chair halfway through with a pointed lecture on cheating against someone so much younger than him. 

It had been five hours of near continuous chess when Firo decided it was bedtime for the small champion. Czes complained but headed back to the apartment with halfhearted resistance. 

"I'm older than you and Ennis combined," the boy said snappishly. 

Firo scoffed. "You only play the age card when its useful."

"Yeah," Czes admitted freely. "Hey, if I beat you in chess, can I stay up later?"

"I just watched you go uncontested for 400 games straight. I'm not the smartest but damn if I'm stupid enough to try that," the camorrista responded with a huff. "Where'd you get that good anyway?"

"I had a friend in Italy who would play me when I was bored. She learned from a local aristocrat."

"What was her name?"

"Nikki."

The conversation ceased, though Firo noted it was the most Czes had ever said about his life before the Advenna Avis. Even if he had no hope of winning, maybe he should start playing too.


End file.
